


slice of life with great value din djarin

by skuxie



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22920673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuxie/pseuds/skuxie
Summary: this is not a satisfying ending but i cannot squeeze anything else out of my brain
Kudos: 2





	slice of life with great value din djarin

Gun fire. Shouting. It was almost like clockwork. The bandit gangs that were ballsy enough to approach the Gas Works territory were always at each other’s throats entirely too early in the day. ‘Early in the day’ meaning 1 pm for the hungover bounty hunter who-- much to his irritation-- found himself awoken by the fighting. Nikau opened an eye (his good eye), then instantly shut it again; the sunlight cutting through the makeshift roof proved to be too bright for his current state. “Jesus fukkin’ Christ.” The gunshots continued. Bullets connected with the rusty machinery surrounding the man’s base and created a cacophony that turned an irritating lightheadedness into a splitting headache. He rolled (literally) off of the worn-out couch he used as a bed and shuffled over to the base’s front entrance. Pulling on his jacket, placing his helmet on his head, and grabbing the machete that hung near the door, he pushed his way outside. A speaker built into his helmet amplified his words as he spoke out to the bandits;

“HEY!” The fighting stopped as the bandits looked over at the sloppily dressed bounty hunter.

“Feel like real shit and you assholes are on my turf, so make your bloody fuckkin’ away outta here before I add you all to my lawn decorations, eh?” Brandishing the knife, he gestured to the spikes cropping out of the ground around him, each topped with a bright, white skull. “What’s real funny about these bros over here is that I only just set them up three days ago. The beasts out here’ll pick bones clean real fast. One minute you’re a freshly decapitated head, nek minute you’re old Toothy over here.” He poked at the nearest skull with his knife. A piece of bone chipped off. Nick chuckled, then pointed the machete at one of the bandits. “I’d love to add more of yous to my collection, but I think it’d be best if you and your mates got outta here.” Pause. “Quick.” Pause. “My patience is wearing real fuckkin’ thin.”

There was a long moment of silence. No one moved. “You all got guns and I’ve got a big knife. Take a piss. See what’ll happen if you try to push back, eh? But I’ll warn yous, the rumors about me are true. I can, an’ I WILL tear through you lot….an’ I’ll do it quick.” The bandits, who had looked firm in their decision to keep the fight on Nick’s front lawn seemed to reconsider. Nick grinned under his helmet. His reputation preceded him. The two leaders called their men off; the bandits scattering to the shadows like cockroaches. 

When they were out of sight, Nick’s shoulders slouched and he returned to the comfort of his base. Knife, helmet, jacket, tossed aside carelessly. He stumbled to the chipped wood table at the back of the main room. Six needles sat in an unceremoniously placed pile in the middle of the table. The latest batch of experimental antidotes Doctor DeLacy had cooked up to be tested. Each syringe had the words ‘DO NOT USE AS A HANGOVER CURE, STANTON!’ scrawled across the tube. Nick picked up a syringe. Hangover cure. He blew a stray strand of hair out of his eyes and chuckled before plunging the needle into the spot in his arm where he and the doctor had practiced. The nausea hit instantly. It always did. Doctor DeLacy had yet to work that side effect of the antidote out. The bounty hunter shakily made his way back to the couch. “13...14...15…” 15 more seconds to hold down last night’s dinner. The room was spinning, but he had long since learned to plant himself some place sturdy beforehand. “Fukkin’ hell.” Nick’s hands made their way to the sides of his head, attempting to stabilize his mind. “26....27...28...29….30.” Everything came to a screeching halt. The fog lifted. The nausea passed. Nick let out a burp. “Hoo! What a rush, ha ha.” He pulled the needle he had left in his arm out, and set it down on a nearby cabinet. “The doc doesn’t know what she’s talking about, that worked GREAT.” He said, to no one in particular. Another burp, followed by another laugh. 

With his head clear, the bounty hunter retrieved his belongings from the pile he had left by the front door and started to gear up for the day. He shrugged the jacket back on, pulled his hair into a loose ponytail, placed the helmet back on and clicked the gas tubes into place. It was a lot, but every piece had importance. Not only for his protection, but for the show of it all. It was his costume and he was a performer. He had a reputation to uphold, afterall. After pulling on a few more pieces and arming himself with several basic weapons and weapons of his own design, he wrapped his tattered black shawl around his shoulders-- a reminder of what he was truly capable of to anyone who crossed his path-- and made his way out into the wastes.


End file.
